


Kingdom

by Surefall



Category: Cable and Deadpool, Deadpool (Comics), Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: #ProvidenceLives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Island of Providence, M/M, MCU Nick Fury, Providence (Marvel), The Talk, rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 21:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7773469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Surefall/pseuds/Surefall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some people are responsible.  Other people have responsibility thrust upon them.</p><p>Or:</p><p>Nick Fury has The Talk with Nathan Summers.  Someone had to do it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kingdom

**Author's Note:**

> "You don't get it -- you're practically immortal -- I don't have that luxury! I've been from the future to the past and back again -- but I've run out of time!" -- Cable, _Cable & Deadpool #10_
> 
> "There's a small island in the South Pacific I know ... that has the chance to become the most important place in the world one day ... " -- Cable, _Cable & Deadpool #12_
> 
> And then I had some thoughts ...

Fury materialized in a dark room, the island's night time glow casting a dim light through the open window shades. The dark, unhappy lump in the bed rolled immediately into motion, grabbing a gun out from under a pillow to point it at Fury, landing on bare feet.

"For god sakes, Wilson, put some clothes on!" Fury barked, ignoring the gun as he glared. He didn't make any sudden moves, because startled assassins were trigger happy assassins. "No one needs to see that!"

"You get what you deserve for creeping into a person's bedroom with your saucy leather number," Wilson huffed indignantly, tossing the gun onto the nightstand, where it clattered right off the edge and onto the floor. He turned away, scrubbing not so subtly at his wet cheeks as he looked around -- probably for his clothes.

Fury made no comment on the tears as he turned away, "You'll make me blind in my one good eye!"

"Maybe then you could start a club! Blind, black, and invading my fucking bedroom with your white canes and your bat vengeance!"

It was obvious even to a man with one eye that this space had belonged to Summers. Spartan came to mind. Neat, orderly, almost clinical. Then Wilson had happened -- unless Summers had such eclectic taste as to decorate with flowers, murals made entirely out of soda cans, and stubby little cacti -- and Summers had just nudged his things gently out of his path, making even Wilson's random additions orderly in their rearrangement.

Fury ignored the sounds of Wilson getting dressed as he strode over to the liquor cabinet, glancing at the picture frame that was face down on top of it. He picked it up and set it upright. Summers was more sentimental than he seemed if he was keeping a photo of Wilson ... or sort of an asshole for putting it on top of the cabinet he no doubt resorted to after dealing with the mercenary. Fury idly contemplated the placement as he rifled through bottles, before deciding on 'asshole' and a bottle of vodka.

"What? You couldn't find the Hennessy?" Wilson snipped, thankfully dressed in blue jeans and a white shirt that looked like he had stolen it from Summers from the way it hung from his shoulders. He slapped his picture face down and then looked like he might burst into tears again.

"Can't be a little more racist, motherfucker?" Fury casually shot back as he selected two shot glasses and set them on the side table. So less 'asshole' and more sentiment ... but sentiment with purpose. Perhaps there was more purpose in this errand than Summers desiring to thumb his dead nose at Fury. 

"I'll have you know my mother was a saint."

Fury unscrewed the cap and splashed some vodka into the glasses, "She'd have to be to deal with you." 

Fury slid a glass across the table to Wilson and Wilson took it, a question plastered across his face, "So you've ... come to insult me and drink my liquor?"

"To Nathan Summers," Fury lifted his own glass, "And his fucked up version of peace."

Wilson laughed and if it was half a sob, Fury said nothing. He clinked his glass to Fury's, "To Nate. And his peace ... through tyranny." 

Fury snorted and knocked back the shot, appreciating the smooth burn. Whatever his faults, Summers stocked a decent vodka. He set the glass down with a click, "Megatron is dead. All hail _Starscream_."

Wilson gave him a surprised look, as if he didn't expect Fury to have gotten the reference, then grinned wryly, "We're fresh out of Starscream."

"We have _you_."

"If you're implying that I'm a backstabbing traitor willing to throw Nate out of the Astrotrain ... " Wade said, anger beginning to color his tone, "you'd be right on the first, but dead wrong on the second, and you can -- "

"I'm not," Fury said shortly, "but you _are_ his heir. Everything, excluding a few keepsakes and including this island, now belongs to you."

There was no rarer pleasure in this universe than the view of Wade Wilson speechless.

Wilson gaped like a fish, opening and shutting his mouth until he finally seemed to find words, "You're clowning. There are clowns in here. Damn, this vodka is strong. Am I hallucinating? I thought I just heard you say that Nate left me his _island_."

"You heard me right." Fury reached into his jacket and pulled out a folder, dropping it onto the table before them, "As the executor of his estate, I present to you his will."

"That's not like him," Wilson said with a frown, only glancing at the folder, "Nate didn't think about things like that. Making wills, I mean. It was part of that whole countries without borders, only owning what you can carry, future warrior hippy mumbo jumbo thing he had going on." 

"He didn't think of it," Fury flipped the folder open when Wilson didn't, " _I_ did."

  

* * *

  

"You wished to speak to me." It was a statement rather than a question and it had followed the materialization of Nathan Summers into the _USS Victory_ 's observatory.

Fury didn't turn around. That would be granting Summers too much power, and he already had more than enough. Instead he remained standing exactly where he was, in the observatory above his bridge, watching his technicians go about their business with clockwork precision. "Doors are there for a reason. It's polite to use them."

"This is more efficient."

A likely story. Fury knew the man was smirking and he wasn't going to give him the satisfaction, well, he would give him _some_ satisfaction, so he could reel him in. "All the time you've spent in other people's heads and you still don't know a single thing about them. Is that conscious choice or self defense?"

"Just because I know what you want me to do doesn't mean I'm going to do it," Summers said coolly as he joined Fury at the window, apparently growing tired of Fury's lack of willingness to turn and face him. "Admiring your kingdom?"

"Have you admired yours?"

"It isn't a kingdom." Summers didn't much like that, did he? Calling his little island country exactly what it was when he had such _grand_ schemes for it.

"It is in all but name," Fury continued, because now they were going to get to the real reason why he had summoned Summers into his presence, "Have you named your successor?"

"What?" Summers actually turned to look at him in surprise, like the very idea had never crossed his mind. Perhaps it hadn't. All the more reason to have the discussion.

"I didn't stutter."

Summers narrowed his eyes and then shook his head, "I don't need a successor. Providence managed without me before and will manage without me again. They're capable of looking after themselves now that I've given them the push."

"You're a damn fool." Fury gave a bark of laughter. It was staged for effect, but there was some real feeling behind it. He continued before Summers had time to get over his indignation. "You think that just because you've been here a year that suddenly mankind has achieved _enlightenment_?"

"They've already made great strid -- "

Fury cut him off with a slashing hand, "The moment you're dead, Providence will be gutted and the remnants picked over by scavengers."

He had Summers' real attention now, sharp eyed and cold. "That didn't happen the last time I was indisposed."

"Everyone enjoys a good show and you made yours spectacular. Flashy, heart warming, laced with a heaping dose of guilt trip ... but you were back before the _feeling_ had time to fade. You benefited from the emotional manipulation. If Wilson had taken another month or two longer to fix you, the public interest would have moved on and those countries you challenged with your little display would have remembered that your island was full of shiny toys ... and nothing would have stopped them from taking them."

Summers looked away from Fury, back out over the view of studiously working technicians ... and the one tech playing Pac-Man where he thought Fury couldn't see him. "You wouldn't have allowed that to happen."

"I'll see that island destroyed before I let it fall into the wrong hands," Fury said coldly, because it was time for hard truths. Just because he liked that little island didn't mean he could spend endless amounts of money and resources _protecting_ it. "Is that how you want your dream to end? In fragments on the ocean floor?"

"There's nothing to stop them from taking it now," Summers was far too smug. "Here I stand -- powerless -- unable to stop them if they should chose to act."

"You have a bridge to sell me, boy?" Fury barked a laugh, "Your island is filled with secret toys. You're blood related to the X-men. You have an unkillable assassin that does whatever you tell him to do. You're _anything_ but powerless."

Summers' lips curved up into a small smirk that showed just how pleased with himself he was. "All of which will still be true after I'm dead." 

"I wouldn't count on that," Fury was more than ready to puncture some of that smugness, "The X-men won't have the time to worry about some little island halfway across the world when nobody they care about lives on it."

"They're not so callous as to ignore a cry for help."

"If they even hear it ... considering how much time they spend gallivanting off planet or in alternate time lines."

"You seem so sure I'll die," Summers said, but his lips had pressed together and if Fury was reading him right, it was anger that tightened the lines around his dead eye, "I hope you're not intending to make sure it happens."

"That would make certain governments very happy," Fury said matter-of-factly, "but no. I'm not conspiring to bump you off. You'll manage that just fine on your own ... and sooner rather than later the way you keep throwing yourself into every world threatening event."

Summers stared pensively out of the window, probably watching that tech get slaughtered at Pac-Man.

"You're a man with responsibilities. It's irresponsible to leave this for others to decide.... because they _will_ decide and you won't like it."

"I'll be too dead to like anything," Summers said, snark creeping into his voice.

"Even if you continue the annoying Summers pattern of returning from the dead, you'll have left things confused and uncertain in your absence." Fury changed the tone of voice to something milder, because now it was time to reel Summers gently in, "You're a soldier, you know armies require clear chains of command."

"Providence isn't and has never been an army," Summers said, annoyed. Fury didn't disagree, that bunch of free wheeling hippies definitely didn't make a decent army. Providence had an army of two and one of them was standing next to him.

"Countries require the same clear chain of command. Your enlightened future might have only Apocalypse to rule them, but the present is significantly more complicated."

"It's not as simple as _that_ ," Summers started and Fury waved a hand to indicate he didn't care.

"I don't care what the status of the world is in two thousand years, I care about the status of the world _now_."

"It's that short sightedness that leads to the rule of Apocalypse in the first place," Summers sounded more than a little aggrieved at Fury's disinterest in a future that may never come to pass.

"And if we should both live to actually see it, I will let you say 'I told you so'," Fury was not going to let himself get distracted from his point, no matter how annoying that little smirk playing at the edge of Summers mouth was, like he thought he would actually get to say 'I told you so'.

"I'll enjoy that." Smug and smirking, a combination Fury tolerated in no one except himself. 

Fury didn't know why Wilson followed after this man like a lost puppy. He was utterly exasperating. "Try not to enjoy it too much, Wilson might get jealous." 

Summers lifted his chin and Fury spoke again, before Summers started in on one of his Wilson defenses, "The _point_ is this is my Will Talk."

"The Will Talk?" Summers mouthed more than said, honest puzzlement softening his features into something younger and sweeter. Fury blinked, suddenly struck by the notion that _this_ face was exactly the reason that Wilson was following Summers around. It was both fairly entertaining and _humanizing_. 

Perhaps the best way to get through to Summers was to follow the Wilson pattern of blunt verbal battering since subtlety didn't seem to be working. Far be it from Fury to despise a tactic just because it originated somewhere despicable. 

"Some people get the Sex Talk. Others get the What Were You Thinking Talk. Some lucky few get the Will Talk. Summers, you have things others could inherit. Important things. So I'm here to drop some wisdom on you, son. You need to decide who will get your things. Then put it in writing." The thoughtful look had returned to Summers' face. "Think about it carefully. Who will carry your dreams forward? Who's invested in Providence? Who can you trust to follow you? Who will protect your island?"

"I'm going to have to think about this," Summers admitted after a moment, " _ **If**_ I accept your premise."

"Do that," Fury said, pretending to mild annoyance and letting Summers have small victories. Fury knew very well that Summers would now do more than _think_ about it. "You know the way out."

"So polite," Summers said with a smirk, turning away from the window and putting some distance between himself and Fury in preparation for what Fury assumed would be his teleportation trick.

"Efficient," Fury returned coolly, "And Summers ... " Summers turned to look back at him, an eyebrow raised in question, "remember to leave something for Wilson when you write your will."

At Summers' surprised look Fury turned back to the window, "He's going to be _lost_ without you. You might as well leave him something to remember you by."

  

* * *

  

"He eventually came around to my point of view."

Fury savored the second speechless moment of the night as Wilson finally picked the will up with shaking hands, swiftly scanning the paper.

"Congratulations, Wilson. You're now responsible for the lives of 35,000 people."

"34,764 people," Wilson corrected automatically and then looked up, deer-in-the-headlights guilty, as if knowing things about Providence was something he had to feel guilty about.

"A surprisingly exact number," Fury commented dryly, raising an eyebrow.

Guilt moved swiftly into indignation, "And besides, you can't own people! Nate wouldn't have left me _them_!"

"No, but you own the property they live in. That makes you their king. Just as Cable was, for all that he denied the role."

"No one is going to accept _me_ as the owner of Providence! No one! And even if they did, I'm just going to fuck it up! Because that's what I do, I fuck things up."

"Maybe," Fury refilled his glass with vodka, "You should stop living down to expectations and start living up to Cable's. He left you this because he thought you could handle it. So _handle it_."

**Author's Note:**

> As far as I know the Helicarrier doesn't have a name. So I named it after the ship the Decepticons built to replace the _Nemesis_ in Transformers G1.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Inheritance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14741003) by [sbdrag](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sbdrag/pseuds/sbdrag)




End file.
